


Fury of The Storm

by ladyarcherfan3



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyarcherfan3/pseuds/ladyarcherfan3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin and Marian get caught in a winter storm; Robin is injured and the couple have a conversation to clear up a few issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fury of The Storm

Sherwood shivered under the grip of winter.  The wind was thin and cold, slipping like needles through thin cloaks and piercing any weakness in a shelter like silvers of ice.  A coat of ice and snow several inches deep covered the ground, making travel uncomfortable but not impossible.  According to every old man and woodsman in the shire, a snow storm was on the way, the likes of which had not been seen in England for well over a life time.  So, the outlaws had been busy, sharing out the supplies of their food stores to the villagers that needed it. 

 

It was late afternoon before the gang was able to make their way back from Clun to camp in order to prepare for the storm.  John hurried them along despite their weariness; his bones were telling him that the snow was on its way.  However, before they were halfway back to the camp, Robin announced that he was going to Knighton.

 

“Master, surely not!  You don’t want to be caught out in the storm!” Much argued.

 

John shook his head warningly, “Robin, this storm is going to be bad.  You don’t want to be out in it.”

 

Robin rolled his eyes and smirked.  “Well, if it’s going to be as big of a storm as you say John, I want to make sure Marian and Edward are prepared!”  With a wave, he turned and trotted off into the trees.

 

“I don’t know why on earth he would think Edward and Marian wouldn’t be ready for the storm.  They have a proper house, and food, and a good fire.  It’s not like they’d be going hungry or getting cold.” Much declared as he stomped through the crusty snow.

 

Allan snorted.  “Yeah, I’m sure ‘e knows all that, too!  ‘E’s just hopin’ for a few kisses to keep ‘imself warm through this storm!”

 

“It’s not that far to Knighton,” Will pointed out as they continued on to camp. 

 

“If five miles isn’t far.”  Much started to shake his head in despair, but Djaq patted him on the arm as she passed.

 

“Robin can take care of himself,” she said.

 

“Yes, right up until the moment he lands in trouble, which he always does!” Much cried.  But he subsided after a moment, knowing there was nothing he could do short of running after Robin and joining him at Knighton.  And if Allan was right in his assumptions, Robin would hardly be glad of an interruption.  With a final sigh of frustration, Much hurried to catch up with the rest of the gang.      

 

***

 

Robin moved briskly through the forest, as much to stay warm as to reach Knighton faster.  The wind gathered strength, snarling through the trees, and a few flakes of snow drifted through the bare canopy above him.  Even with his hood up and cloak pulled tightly around his lean frame, the cold was seeping into his bones.  He rather hoped he would be able to talk Marian into giving him a full wineskin to share with the gang. 

 

A smile pulled at his lips at the thought of Marian.  After the disrupted wedding and the following triumph of the outlaws over the Sheriff once again, Marian had become increasingly warm towards Robin, and it was certainly a pleasant change for him.  He did want to make sure that she and her father were settled in for the storm, as Edward’s health was not handling the cold weather very well.  But in truth, Robin simply missed Marian and wanted to see her again.  With those thoughts, he hurried on. 

 

By the time he reached Knighton Hall, snow swirled through the air, the opening act for the long anticipated storm.  He rubbed his hands a moment before putting his fingers in his mouth to whistle over the wind.  Several moments passed and he jigged in place before stooping to snatch up a few icy pebbles and aimed them at the window above him.  As he pulled his arm back to let the little missiles fly, Marian’s shutters cautiously opened far enough to let her look through; her face showed surprise and pleasure before shifting to annoyance.  He grinned up at her, releasing the pebbles so that they fell back to the ground.

 

“Hello Marian.”

 

“What are you doing out there?  It’s storming, if you can’t tell.”  She was frowning at him, though Robin was certain she was fighting back a smile; it was difficult to tell with the snow flying through the air.

 

He called over the wind, “I came to make sure you were prepared for the storm.”  He glanced around the exterior of the hall.  “Are you?” he asked cheekily.

 

Marian rolled her eyes.  “Yes we are, thank you.  And if we hadn’t been, what could you have done?  You don’t look like you brought any supplies, and you’ll never make it to your camp and back before the storm gets worse.”

 

Robin didn’t reply immediately, but instead swung himself up onto the bar and then onto the roof to stand next to her window.  The building blocked the wind and snow, and he maneuvered himself as close to Marian’s open window – and the scant heat flowing from it – as he could before he spoke.

 

“Well, seeing that you are ready to ride out the storm, I should probably leave.”

 

“Then what are you doing up here?”

 

“You wouldn’t send a man back into the storm without something to warm him up, would you?” he asked; while a smile flamed in his eyes, his face remained serious.

 

Marian raised an eyebrow, but her face softened and she leaned towards him.  “And what did you have in mind?”

 

Robin bent his head closer to hers, but just as his lips neared hers, he turned his head slightly and whispered, “Oh, perhaps a skin of wine, milady.”  Then he turned just as quickly again and gave her a light kiss on the cheek.    

 

With an affronted huff, Marian pulled back and slapped his arm.

 

“What?” Robin cried, rubbing the offended spot, though it hardly hurt.  “I thought the wine would help keep the lads’ spirits up while we’re stuck in camp.”

 

Marian rolled her eyes.  “I’ll fetch some, and then you’d better hurry back.  A dead and frozen Robin Hood will not do anyone any good.” 

 

He smirked and leaned back against the wall as she closed the shutters.  It took Marian longer than he expected to return, and when she opened the window again, he saw why.  She carried a bag that looked to contain more than just a wine skin, and was dressed in her Nightwatchman garb, minus the mask. 

 

“What are you doing?” Robin asked in surprise.

 

“I’m going to take you back to camp with my horse.  You’ll get there quicker.” 

 

“I could just take your horse, and then you wouldn’t have to be bothered,” Robin pointed out; nevertheless, he hoped she would reject his plan in favor of hers.

 

“What?  And let my poor horse stand out in the snow storm for however long it lasts?”  She rolled her eyes.  “I know you don’t have a stable out in the forest.” 

 

He shrugged grudgingly.  “True.  I might have to get Will onto that project as soon as it warms up again.” 

 

Marian didn’t answer, but slipped through the window to stand on the roof next to Robin.  “I told my father that the Nightwatchman had to help a nearby cottager, but we need to hurry.  I don’t like this weather.” 

 

In the short time that it had taken Marian to get ready the light had faded from the sky, and the snow was falling in earnest.  Through the dim light and wind driven snow, the nearby edge of the forest could hardly be seen.  Robin felt a tug of unease.  Perhaps he should convince Marian to let him go back alone after all.  There was no sense in the both of them getting lost in the storm if things went wrong. 

 

Marian touched his arm to get his attention.  “Let’s go.”  She swung off the roof with practiced ease, and Robin followed.  The cold iron of the bar bit into his hands and the wind buffeted face; with a sigh of relief, he followed Marian into the relative warmth of the stables.

 

The big grey stallion was saddled in short order, the bag of goods from Marian tied to a dee ring on the back of the saddle.   The couple hesitated at the stable door, looking out at the blizzard. 

 

“Marian, you don’t have to ride out in this.  I can make it back to camp on foot.” 

 

“Don’t be a fool,” she replied briskly, as she stepped out into the storm. “Shut that door tight and get on the horse.”  She swung up into the saddle, and Robin hauled himself behind her, shifting so he could sit as close to Marian as possible.  It was the best way to keep the both of them warm, of course. 

 

The storm screamed and whirled around them as they left the protective shield of Knighton and struck out for Sherwood.  Robin felt Marian’s shoulders tense against the wind, and he slipped one arm around her waist to pin her cloak around her; with the other he tried to keep his own cloak under control.  The horse balked as snow blew into his face, but Marian urged him forward with a firm word and a kick.  With a fluttering snort, the stallion trotted for the tree line. 

 

Sherwood had always seemed like a benign protector to Robin, granting him and his gang a refugee from their enemies, providing shelter and food.  Yet now, the forest became a servant to the storm’s terror; the trees that had should have blocked the wind channeled it instead, herding the blasts of cold and snow before it.  The horse could not go much faster than a trot; the snow was beginning to drift up to the middle of his cannons in places, and Marian did not want to take the chance of running into some hidden obstacle.  It was also becoming increasingly difficult to see the normal land marks that would have guided them to the outlaw’s camp.  They made several miles at this slow pace before the storm swelled into a roaring monster.     

 

Marian uttered a muffled curse and pulled her hood lower as the snow stung against her face with renewed ferocity.  With a grimace, Robin realized that he was in the far more protected position.  He should be the one taking the brunt of the wind.  Now, the whole plan seemed ridiculous; he should have simply listened to John’s advice and gone back to camp.  Or, he should have stayed at Knighton – even sleeping in the _stable_ there was preferable to being out in this storm even if he was with Marian.    

 

He leaned forward and said, “This might not have been one of our best ideas!”

 

Before Marian could reply, there was a tearing roar from above them.  Robin had just enough time to realize that a tree had been blown over by the wind before the horse shrieked in terror and reared.  The wind and ice conspired against him, and with another squeal, the horse slipped sideways, hooves scrabbling for purchase on the icy forest floor.  Robin reacted instinctively, trying to throw Marian clear with as much leverage as his arm around her waist would give.  Then the ground was rushing up at him.  A bolt of agony ran through him as his leg was trapped between the horse’s side and the frozen ground.  At almost the same instant, his head cracked against the ground and everything went black. 

 

Marian struggled out of the snow bank she’d landed in, raking her hood off her head so she could see.  For a moment she was confused as to what had happened.  She recalled the tree toppling, the stallion screaming, and Robin’s arm, tossing her into the air. . .  Standing, she looked around.  The horse was nowhere to be seen; undoubtedly he had run back home.   The tree lay nearby, the branches reaching like dark skeletal fingers across the snow.  Just out of their reach was a smaller form, unmoving save for the loose edge of his cloak flapping in the wind.  

 

“Robin?” she called, stumbling through the snow towards him. 

 

He was sprawled on the ground, unconscious.  Hoof prints scored the ground around him and had spattered him with snow.  His left leg and the snow around it was stained red.  Marian felt a bubble of panic swell inside her chest, and she dropped to the ground next to him, gently prodding the leg to inspect for a wound.  After a moment, she relaxed slightly; it wasn’t blood, but the ankle was injured; it was beginning to swell.  Robin suddenly groaned, eyes fluttering open.    

 

“Robin?” she said again, reaching out to brush snow from his face and hair.  She froze as her actions drew a yelp from him.  “Robin, can you hear me?”

 

With an effort, he muttered, “Yes.  Head . . . don’t touch the head.  Hurts.”  He drew a deep breath and swallowed to collect himself before slowly attempting to sit up. With a sigh of frustration, Marian moved to help him.

 

Robin grimaced as he attempted to move his left leg and he stilled.  “What the . . . ?”  He stared down the red stain with fear and confusion seeping into his eyes. 

 

“It’s not blood,” Marian said quickly.  “The wineskin must have broken when the horse fell on you.” 

 

“Waste of good wine,” Robin muttered.  A particularly cold gust of wind drove into them and he began to shiver violently.    

 

Marian pulled her hood up and moved to tug Robin’s cloak tighter around his shoulders.  “Your ankle might be broken, it’s swelling already.  Can you stand?  We can’t stay out in this.” 

 

Robin nodded slightly, wincing at the pain in his head.  “I know a place we can go, it shouldn’t be far from here.” 

 

With Marian helping, he stood slowly and tested his leg.  Pain shot up it, and with a hiss he quickly shifted his weight to his good leg.  Without waiting for him to ask for or argue against her help, Marian pulled his arm across her shoulder, acting the part of a human crutch.  She could feel his body shaking with the cold and pain, but when she glanced at him, he gave a grin, albeit a weak one.

 

“Where are we going?”she asked. 

 

Robin nodded to the right.  “It’s that way, let’s go.”

 

***

 

At the outlaw’s camp, the atmosphere was of restless resignation.  The storm and night had swallowed the forest, and there was nothing to be done except to wait it out.  All the outlaws were acutely aware of their leader’s absence, but also knew it would be something akin to suicide to search for him in the storm.

 

Much sat on his bunk, head in his hands.  “Please, God,” he muttered, “just let him have stayed at Knighton.” 

 

“An’ if ‘e didn’t?” Allan demanded.

 

“There are places in Sherwood for him to hunker down in, if he did get caught in the storm,” John said.  “Robin knows where they are.”  He shot Allan a look to quell the other man’s attempt to bait Much. 

 

The gang fell silent, listening to the wind howl, and hoping that Robin did the prudent thing for a change and was not attempting to travel through the storm. 

 

***

 

Robin stumbled, almost taking Marian down with him as they struggled through the snow.  He couldn’t put any weight on his left foot, and his head was ached to the point where his vision blurred.  Or perhaps it was just the blowing snow, or the fact that he felt so tired . . .

 

“Robin!”

 

He grunted in surprise as Marian shook him.  He straightened, fighting to focus on her face. 

 

“If you fall asleep or pass out, we’re never going to get to shelter!” she said sharply.  “How much further, and where?”

 

“S’not far,” Robin muttered.  “See those rocks?  That’s where we’re going.”

 

The place he indicated was simply a darker shadow in the darkening forest.  Marian bit her lip uncertainly, and shifting her grip on Robin’s arm and waist, she helped him limp forward.  Nearing the rocks, she spotted a dark patch framed by the boulder that proved to be an opening into a small cave of sorts.  Robin pulled away from her support and leaned on the rocks.   

 

“What if there’s an animal in there?” she asked as she knelt to clear snow from the entrance.

 

Robin shifted his leg carefully as he eased himself down.  “I’m sure you’ll be able to persuade it to leave,” he said between clenched teeth, and crawled in with Marian not far behind.

 

 The sound of the wind faded to a frustrated whine as it could not reach into the cave, and the chill could not follow much further. Robin settled himself against one wall, letting his injured leg stretch out in front of him.  Marian maneuvered her way in so she was sitting next to him, careful not to jostle his injured leg.  It was surprisingly warm in the embrace of the earth and stones; the very darkness seemed to provide warmth.  Robin felt his eye lids slipping downwards, the weight of weariness pressing down on from all directions.  They were safe from the storm, he could sleep now.

 

“Ow!”  He was pulled back into consciousness as Marian reached down and pulled his boot off.  “What are you doing?” he demanded.  He certainly couldn’t see what was happening.

 

He felt Marian shifting about and lifting his foot off the ground again.  “You’re ankle is swollen, your boot had to come off before I had to cut it off.”  She wrapped a bulky length of fabric tightly around the injured limb.  “There.”

 

Robin squinted against the dark but soon gave up.  “What did you wrap my foot in?”

 

“My tunic.” 

 

“You’re going to get cold,” he warned her.  He reached out blindly and found her shoulder.  He added gently, “Come here.” 

 

She allowed him to wrap her in his embrace, and curled up under their cloaks.  Marian rested her cheek on his shoulder and he settled his temple on the crown of her head.  He began to drift off once again, falling into a deep dark pool that weighed down his limbs and slowed his thoughts.  A voice whispered his name through the blackness, but he ignored it.  Then he was shaken sharply once again, the movement causing pain to spark though his head. 

 

“Robin, wake up!”

 

He groaned.  “Marian.  We’re stuck in this cave until the storm settles.  I’m tired.”  With a grimace he added pathetically, “My head hurts.  I want to sleep.” 

 

She shook her head.  “That head of yours is why you shouldn’t sleep.  You hit it hard enough to knock yourself out.

 

Those words woke him up a bit.  He had no desire to fall asleep, never to wake up again.  He wasn’t that tired.  “Well,” he said finally, his voice lowering slightly, “what should we do to keep me awake?”

 

“Talk.”

 

“Talk?”  Robin lifted an eyebrow though he knew Marian wouldn’t be able to see it.  “What about?  The weather?  It’s just a bit cold and blustery out, don’t you think?”

 

Marian chuckled.  “That is an understatement.”  She fell silent for a few moments, and then she said, “That day of the wedding.  I never asked, but why was Much there instead of you?” 

 

“He ran faster?” Robin suggested lightly. 

 

Marian poked his shoulder gently.  “Truth.”  

 

Robin didn’t reply for a time.  Marian was about to shake him again when he whispered, “I was going to leave.  I had no reason to stay.” 

 

“But your men, the poor?”  Marian was shocked. 

 

Robin gave a wry smirk.  “I told your father at, one point, that I was sick of doing the right thing.  And I was, because I was losing you.  Gisbourne had almost killed you, but by some miracle, you survived.  And yet he was _still_ going to marry to you.  Apparently he was going to win, so there was no point in me fighting any more.  So I left.”

 

“What brought you back?” 

 

“I realized I couldn’t let him win, of course!  Not without a fight at least.  And I heard the bells going like mad, and I swore I heard Much screaming at the top of his lungs.” 

 

Marian smiled a little at the memory.  “He was.  He went on about the false king, and when that didn’t have any effect, he shouted ‘her heart belongs to another!’ ”    

 

Robin’s eyebrows shot up.  “And what did you say to that?”

 

“I told him he was wrong, and that I belonged at the altar with Guy.”

 

“What?”  Robin’s reply came out rather strangled.   

 

“I realized I was lying to everyone including myself.  And then I hit Guy.” 

 

Robin smiled broadly and chuckled.  “I doubt I will ever tire of _that_ part of the story.”

 

They fell silent again for a time.  The storm raged unabated, but only a minute amount of snow and cold found their way into the small cave.  Robin grew drowsy again, and Marian shifted in his arms, preparing to wake him.  Deciding he didn’t want to be shaken, Robin roused himself enough to speak.

 

“Remember that time . . . Clun, the baby, Roy’s death?”  He felt Marian nod against his chest.  “You never did tell me why you cut your hair.  And I don’t believe it was because it was a nuisance to wash.”

 

Marian stiffened slightly.  “It was a punishment.  For speaking out against the Sheriff for keeping Clun quarantined.”

 

His brow furrowed, Robin asked, “Didn’t you tell me that you didn’t ‘publicly flaunt the sheriff’s decisions’?”

 

“I don’t!  It was just in front of the Council of Nobles, not half the county.”

 

“That’s a bit of a fine line, Marian.” 

 

“You don’t need to remind me.”  She sighed and shifted a bit deeper into his embrace.  “I don’t think we should make this a habit,” she said after a moment.

 

“This?” Robin asked as he drew her closer, his hand running up and down her arm lightly. 

 

“No.  One of us getting injured, spending a night in a cave, and speaking the truth to each other.  Well,” she amended, “at least the first two parts.  The last part we should try to do more often.”

 

“You’re right.  The spending the night in a cave part _would_ be more comfortable if there were no injuries involved. . .” Robin said, his roguish grin audible in his voice.

 

“Just so you know,” Marian said dryly, “it is your head injury that is preventing me from giving you a well deserved slap.”      

 

Robin chuckled.  “You said you wanted the truth!” 

 

“I do.” 

 

“Any other questions you’d like answered?  Because if you don’t, I have one.”

 

Marian nodded.  “Mmm.  And what would be your question?”

 

“Do you love me?”  His tone was light, but Marian could feel the tension in his body.  He was actually unsure of her answer! 

 

“Robin, you fool,” she said with a slight laugh.  “I punched a man that I was supposed to marry _at the altar_ , and ran out to you.  Yes, I love you. . . Do you love me?”  It was her turn to feel mildly nervous.

 

“Listen,” he said softly, and gently traced along her jaw line with his fingers, tilting her face towards his until their lips met in a lingering kiss.  The kiss ended when Robin drew back a hairsbreadth and whispered, “Did you hear it?”  

 

Marian whispered breathlessly, “That sounded like a yes to me.”

 

***

 

The night passed slowly.  Marian’s plan to keep Robin awake and coherent backfired when he began a long story about his first hunt.  The soft patterns of his voice lulled her and weariness weighed down her eyelids.  With a soft sigh, she curled against his side and fell asleep.  A few minutes later, Robin followed her. 

 

He had been fighting against sleep for hours, but once granted it, contrarily he wanted to remain awake.  At first the soft darkness was a welcome relief, wrapping him in warmth and comfort.  Marian was with him, somehow close and far away at the same time.  He could feel her heartbeat against his side and her hair under his cheek.  Then, a feeling of worry and dread filled him.  He could feel Marian in his arms, but she was slipping away.  With a terrified gasp, he reached for her, his hands closing on empty air.

 

“No,” he whispered, struggling to stretch towards her.  “Marian!”

 

He woke himself with a sudden jerk that sent jolts of pain through his head and foot.  With a groan, he shifted carefully to a more comfortable position.  He was suddenly aware of Marian’s absence.  Blinking rapidly, he called her name again, the word leaving his lips as a hoarse whisper.

 

“Robin?”  There was a rustling sound from the mouth of the cave, and Marian slid back next to him.  “What is it?” 

 

He shook his head slightly, willing away the last vestiges of the dream.  “Nothing,” he said.  Then, with a bit of a smile he added, “You let me sleep.” 

 

“You put me to sleep!” she retorted, but she was smiling. 

 

Robin realized that he could see Marian’s face.  A pale grey light was filtering into the cave.  “There’s light,” he observed.

 

Marian nodded.  “The storm is over, and its early morning.  Your ankle is still pretty swollen.  Do you think you can make back to camp with my help, or should I go and get the gang?” 

 

The smartest move would have been to let Marian make the hike by herself.  It would be faster and prevent Robin from injuring himself further.  But after the dream he had just had, he wanted to stay as close to her as long as he could.  So he grinned at her and said, “Oh, I’m sure the gang will be out looking for me, we’ll probably run into them halfway there.  Let’s go.”

 

He crawled out of the cave and pulled himself upright, propped against the boulders behind him.  After the continuous, deathly motion of the storm the day before, the forest was still and silent, yet somehow alive.  Pure white snow covered everything, packed hard and sculpted into stunning drifts by the wind.  Clouds still hung in the sky, but they were like a woolen blanket, soft, grey and thick. 

 

Marian followed him and stood gazing at the forest in wonder.  “It’s rather beautiful,” she whispered after a moment. 

 

“It is,” he agreed softly.  He slipped his arm around her shoulder but made no move to start walking and simply hugged her. 

 

The day was indeed beautiful.  The storm had come and gone and the forest was at peace once again.   Their lives had been threatened by the fury of the storm, but they had survived, and the promise of a new start for them was as clear as the wind driven snow. 

 

A shout drifted through the cold air.  The gang had found them.

 

Robin pulled Marian closer.  “It is indeed beautiful,” he whispered, catching her eyes with his.

 

Even the kiss could not remove the smiles from their faces.     

 

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on lj and ff.net


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